Magnificent Molly
by Kayzel
Summary: Molly MacDonald is feeling rather low of late, as run-down as her early spring garden appears. Could a chance discovery change all this for her?


_Abyssinia Mertyl Foxglove MacDonald is a character of my own creation, the rest of the characters and their respective worlds, I do not own._

**Magnificent Molly**

"Molly, Molly, Molly, you've never been a slave to convention! So why on earth are you finding this so difficult? They're just plants, after all! Either they'll grow or they won't. And why shouldn't they?" Walking along the gravel-paved path, a wide but shallow wooden basket filled to the brim with all sorts of gardening implements dangling from her gloved left hand, Molly MacDonald reasoned out loud. "Oh," she continued, her voice wearied but only due in part to the task she had set ahead for herself, "Hector, you're probably looking down on me right now, having a good ol' laugh! What is it they say about people who talk to themselves?" Stopping her stroll, giving this thought a proper ponder, Molly leaned on the tool she had plunged into the ground—the heavy spade she had hauled all the way from her garden shed and had been using as an impromptu walking stick, "Ah, yes! They either have money in the bank or they're a bit 'touched in the head'. Well neither option seems to suit me, does it? I'll admit to being a wee bit eccentric but I haven't gone completely bananas yet! And as for money," she sighed heavily, "I did have it once." Her gaze fell upon a row of bare, brownish stalks snaking up the high bluish-grey cut stone partition running along the right side of the enclosed area. In just about a month's time the entire wall would be exploding with fragrance and color, a thick, decorative layer of natural wallpaper blooming to life as the two-toned Glenbogle rose, budding and breathing, stretching and growing, would once again come into its own. "Perhaps then," Molly whispered to herself, "perhaps then."

Resuming her trek, Molly addressed her late husband as though he were ambling along beside her. "My dear, you can attest to my being blessed with a green thumb. My passion, my talent for gardening was akin to my knack for painting, you often said. The earth my canvas, the seeds my tempera paints, all liberally watered with my perspiration, toil and love. You could be so poetic at times Hector, romantic even. Were you my muse?" Molly chuckled at the thought, "Because it seems as though I've lost my inspiration." The wind picked up, rustling the leathery deep green leaves of a nearby Rhododendron. "Imagine if the old adage was true, that money did grow on trees! Ha! We'd have been rich, rich, rich! Oh, I know, I know, money does not bring happiness. But still. Am I any happier without?"

Nearing the concrete fountain at the center of the garden, Molly rested a foot on the moss dappled edge of its low, circular rim. Exasperated at its ruined, swampy state, she used the steel reinforced toe of her pink wellies to push at all matter of caught and collected debris, practically knocking herself off balance as her rubber boot slipped on the soupy algae-laced mix of stagnant rainwater and overgrowth. The gaping, upturned mouths of the plump fixed fish figures protruding from the middle—their etched-scale skins speckled with lime-white splotches of dried bird droppings, hadn't been spewing water for quite some time and were clogged with fallen leaves, sprouting in places where wisps of newly-released seed pods floating lightly along on air currents, had become trapped. Frustrated, she made a mental note to immediately have Duncan, perhaps even in a joint effort with the estate's ghillie, clean, repair and restore the fountain to working order.

Before completely exiting the garden, for Molly's new planting scheme would start at the base of the huge tree just beyond the gate, her attention turned to a polished granite marker engraved with her eldest son's full name and the dates upon which he'd entered and left her world. No matter the years, minutes and hours that had passed from the dreadful day of his accident—and as a mother, she'd kept count—Molly still felt a tightness in her stomach and throat whenever approaching Jamie's stone.

"And what say you on this fine April morning, Jamie darling?" Crouching before the granite piece, she used a handheld claw to rake away a patch of dried, withered grass. "To this day I can hear your annual jest; _spring must be on its way, Mother has her gardening togs out again! _Yet weren't you keen to help carry the flats of seedlings, unloading them from the lorrie and making the long trips back and forth across the lawn. It never did make sense to you why I wouldn't allow the lorrie to be driven right over the grass and directly up to the garden gates! You proposed that idea many a time. But I was on to you, too. Especially when you were younger, when offering to help meant the chance for you to drive, even if only to chauffeur your mum to and from the Garden Center. Remember the time I allowed you and Archie to go to the nursery yourselves? All you had to do was pick up my standing order, but being lads you had to roam about. And what did you come home with? Marsh Mallow seeds! Archie was positively convinced that he could grow his own marshmallows for his cocoa—that was all you, putting him on so. You were quite the troublemaker! Your influence over your brother was so strong, when I made it clear that you two were responsible for sowing those seeds, he followed your lead and I daresay that seed packet was never opened. Those poor kernels never had a chance and I considered that a waste of good product, you know!" Molly used the tattered sleeve of her navy jumper to brush a coating of soot and dust off the stone's face. "Because your assistance came with conditions, didn't it? Heaven forbid I ask you to actually_ plant_ anything, your response would sound so mockingly serious and all. _These hands must never come in contact with dirt, Mother. You see I have my reputation to consider. Imagine the heir to the Glenbogle seat having dirt beneath his fingernails. How gauche. What would the ladies think then? No, Mother, that would never do!_ That was your father in you talking, I'm convinced! Really love, all you had to do was wear gloves!"

"Mother?"

"Jamie?" Pivoting on her toes Molly gasped and looked behind her. "Oh, it's you Archie."

"Yes, were you expecting someone else? Actually, what's wrong, you look a little funny. And what were you saying about wearing gloves?"

"Nothing," pulling off her pair, which were stained and torn at the seams, she held them up. "I think it's about time I invested in some new ones."

"Ah. I would offer to buy you a pair but I know better. You'd prefer to choose your own."

"Yes, you are correct, Archie I would."

"I see you're changing things up a bit and planting around the fort tree?"

"Well it's about time, don't you think?" Molly stood slowly, stretching her stiffened frame. " Do you know I've been ordering the same annuals, save a few new ones here and there, for years?"

"Nope," Archie picked up Molly's basket and the spade and shrugged. "I can honestly say I had no idea."

"Well I have," joining her son, the two walked the short distance through the wrought iron gate, the noisy crunch of gravel underfoot giving way to the quieter, softer turf and tamped soil of the side lawn. Just beyond, numerous plastic trays of seedlings, arrayed like spokes on a wheel lay waiting to be transplanted into their new earthen homes at the foot of the large tree.

"Well they're pretty and they'll flourish, and it will really help when we put them on offer for the Open Day."

"But we won't be selling these plantings."

"No, true but it will help to have them blooming and thriving. It'll encourage business."

"So that's all my time and effort is good for then is it, for retail? Everything boils down to money!"

"Not exactly, look Mother," Archie gently laid down the basket of implements and leaned the spade against the massive tree trunk before looking at his mother square on, "is everything really all right with you?"

"Do you know what Glenbogle looked like in its heyday?" Ignoring her son's question Molly spoke, an uncomfortable sense of impatience and dismalness, of exigencies beyond her control causing her voice to quiver almost imperceptibly. "I'm speaking specifically about the landscaping. The different varieties of plants and shrubs surrounding the estate were astounding. There are still a few beds that do blossom faithfully, like the Astilbe," Molly pointed to a patch of swaying green stems yards away which still had yet to flower, "they're very hardy. I've seen photographs of this property from the early and mid 1800s, Archie. How glorious the estate must have been then. Granted the photos were all sepia-toned but, my word, I could just envision all of the colors. Eventually, due to weather conditions and that huge fire that destroyed a good section of the house, many of the plantings simply died off, lost forever. When your father and I were first married I didn't know to take the necessary preventative measures, to cull and save seeds, things of that nature with the idea of preserving what was left, of preserving history. It's such a shame. And it's a shame that not one of my children were ever interested in gardening, though Lizzie does pretty well but I think in her case it has more to do with luck than with possessing my green thumb gene. At any rate, she's not here. And I'm not going to live forever. Anyway," Irritated and impatient, Molly interrupted her own monologue and hastily donned her mucky gardening gloves again, "did you need me for anything?"

"Only to tell you that Lexie and I are heading down to the village to do a few errands." Archie hesitated, a look of concern clouding his handsome face. "Would you like to join us? I think we might stop for lunch on the way back as well."

"No thank you, dear. As you see, my work here is cut out for me."

"Okay." Archie kissed his mother, giving her a gentle hug before turning away.

"Archie wait. A few moments ago, what did you call this tree?"

"Oh," he laughed, "I hadn't realized I'd called it anything. You see Jamie and I referred to it as the _fort_ tree. Goodness knows where that memory came from, I haven't thought about it in years. We used to play under its limbs. We were pirates and soldiers. The thick, gnarly roots of this ancient tree have made the ground so uneven on this side, it made for perfect fortresses for us to hide behind and little niches to hide things in. You know," he bent his knees and lowered his hands, "when we were only wee tall they seemed like 10 foot barricades."

"Yes, I also seem to recall you would steal my good linens to drape over the limbs!"

"Aye," Archie yelled excitedly, covering his mouth with one hand and pointing repeatedly with the other, "that's right. I must confess that was all Jamie's idea. And rightfully so, we did need rooms in our forts and in the cabins of our ships, didn't we?"

Molly watched her son smile, enjoying times past. "You best be getting on before Lexie wonders where you are."

"Right and you're sure you don't need any help with all of this?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You know Mother; you always do a lovely job with your garden."

"Thank you, dear." Molly found his reassurance touching. "Lexie was a very good gardening assistant last spring; perhaps she'll lend me a hand again this year and I can teach her all about the intricate aspects of pruning."

"I'm sure she'd enjoy that immensely, Mother. All right," Archie's initial reluctance to leave Molly alone had waned slightly, "that's me away then."

"Archie?"

"Yes?"

"You'd get dirt beneath your fingernails if I asked you to, wouldn't you?"

His brows knit Archie paused briefly, "Yes, of course, Mother."

"Right," Molly said. "You're a good son."

****

Pulling a charcoal pencil and a small sketch pad out of the pocket of her gardening apron, Molly stepped a few feet away from the tree and began sketching a quick outline of how she imagined the plantings would look in full bloom. Her plan was to create a semi-circle of flowers around the good side of the tree where the ground was still fairly level. Keeping in mind the annual Open Day, when gardens all over the UK would be open to the public, Molly wished to create a colorful, cheery focal point, a friendly welcome of sorts, this being one of the first sights guests would view upon entering the outer gates. And, if time permitted, she also thought it would be lovely to carry the bright colors even further, planting right along the edges of the walkway leading to her garden.

The first tedious task Molly needed to tackle, however was trimming the tall strands of sturdy grass surrounding the tree's base. Though Duncan did an excellent job mowing the entire property, any machine—even the old hand-powered mower required for some sections of lawn were far too clunky to adequately clip this tricky area without causing damage to the tree's roots. Molly's only option was to hand-trim. Choosing a pair of newly-sharpened shears, she started in on the good, even side and after working hard at this for some time she finally managed to neatly trim the whole semi-circle. Sitting back to take a well deserved rest she massaged the over-worked joints of her hands and fingers. A tempting prospect was to stop the clearing at this point, rake up the loose grass and just move on to planting the seedlings but, knowing the rougher, root-bound side would not have the benefit of pretty flowers to soften its edges, Molly geared herself up for another round.

Kneeling on the other side of the tree, Molly thrust the shears into the thick foliage, but instead of the blades smoothly coming together and releasing as before, they became stuck. Exerting all her effort into squeezing the handles closed, Molly could not make the blades budge. In an attempt to simply extricate the tool, she dug her heels into the earth and pulled straight up but when the clippers wouldn't slip out, she simply let them go and that was where they remained, held up as if by some invisible force. Sweeping aside the tall stalks, Molly examined the roots and found a thickly woven matrix of thin but strong twisting vines, creeping along the ground. Though she could not indentify the exact plant, she was familiar with its invasive characteristics, knowing full well that if left to go unchecked, it had the potential to choke the larger roots of the tree, robbing it of nutrients.

With arm muscles almost completely fatigued, Molly rose from her knees and picked up the spade, determined to chop away and thus kill off as much of the damaging vine as possible. Not anticipating the full weight of the tool, her first strike took her by surprise, causing the spade to slip out of position and her body to pitch forward. Steadily grasping the implement's handle again and—bucking all sense of propriety, Molly took the stance of a hard-hat clad worker using a pneumatic drill and planted her bent legs and out-turned feet firmly to either side. Using the spade's heft to her advantage this time, she performed a sort of controlled drop, letting its own weight sink it solidly down into the flora. Though sweat streaked from her forehead, stinging her eyes something terrible, Molly soldiered on, motivated by the satisfying ripping sound of metal slicing through knotty plant. Developing a workable rhythm, Molly inched along striking blow after blow, shredding through the tough weeds until one plunge hit against something so hard and unforgiving, the impact so severe, she felt its jolt first in her wrists and then resonating up through her arms, shoulders, and neck, finally clenching closed her jaw.

"Oh! Ow!" Molly screamed out, bewildered, "What on earth was that?"

**********

Archie watched Lexie fuss with the flowered gift back she was holding in her lap, fluffing out the tissue paper and crinkling it just so. "You know I still think that gift is a bad idea. My mother's very particular about her gardening gloves and today she seems in no mood to be polite about her refusal of them."

"Yes Arch, you've only said that about a thousand times already! We don't know that she's going to refuse them besides, this pair is different. I just know she's going to love them."

"Right, remind me again what makes them so special?"

"Well they have a nice close fit with quite a bit of give and stretch and there are suede patches on the palms for protection…"

"I'm sorry, protection from what exactly?"

"Och, Archie, from thorns and nettles and things of that nature. Also there's a nice cuff and a bit of soft elastic around the wrists and they are treated with a water and bug repellant."

"Nothing will repel the midges, Lex."

"And the best part are the fingers," Lexie continued. "They're dipped in rubber! They'll be perfect for gripping weeds and for grasping tools!"

"I'm glad you like them so much."

"Why big spender, are you thinking of buying me a pair?"

"No," Archie parked the Land Rover at the estate, "I'm thinking that pair is going to become yours."

Ignoring his remark, Lexie hopped out of the truck and rushed to the gate, eager to see how Molly's planting was coming along.

"Archie?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you'd better come and see this."

"Why?" Archie laughed, putting down the shopping totes he'd begun to remove from the landie, "does it look that bad? My goodness," he stopped short beside his wife, "what's happened here?"

Their eyes moved from Molly's toppled basket, its contents carelessly sprinkled over the lawn, to what appeared to be her gloves and sketch book haphazardly strewn about, and to the dirt-encrusted spade lying askew beside a huge, yawning crater dug about two feet into the earth, the wiry, twisted vines around the mouth of the hole, like thousands of tiny arms, eerily beckoning.

And not one single flower had been planted.

**********

Heading to the heart of their home, Archie and Lexie found Molly sitting alone at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on a biscuit. Before her on the table, set atop a thick towel, was a bronze colored box about a foot and a half long and a little less deep.

"Molly? You're all right?" Lexie threw the gift bag to the other end of the table and rushed to her mother in law's side.

"Thank goodness you're all in one piece, Mother!"

"What on earth are you two going on about, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"We expected to see all of the plants set around the tree" Lexie explained, "but instead we got quite the shock."

"Oh," Molly took Lexie's arm. "It must have looked a dreadful sight out there. I'm sorry to have given you such a scare."

"That's all right; the important thing is you're okay." Lexie's attention turned to the rectangular object on the table. "What is that?"

"I'm not certain really. It might be one of those Chinese trick boxes, because I've spent the last few hours trying to open it but to no avail. When my spade struck it though, I think I'd all but convinced myself I'd found gold!"

"Mother, you have."

"What's that Archie?"

"It's our treasure chest."

"You're treasure chest?" Lexie teased, "Och was there really any gold in it then?"

"No, it wasn't real money. Jamie and I had discovered this room in the attic where Lizzie used to go to write in her diary. Thinking it would be fun to pull a joke on her, we went up there but when we opened the door, it became clear to us why she liked the room so much, we were amazed and completely taken in by its contents. There were rows and rows of these little glass bottles, some with cork stoppers, others with flat lids and all were labeled and sealed at the top with this whitish wax. I remember it was hard for me to read the labels because they were all written in a scrolled-cursive hand, but the ones we took—which were marked in some way with the word money—contained these things that looked like thin papery coins. This metal box was simply too neat for us to leave behind, so we piled the bottles into it and it became our treasure chest. But it must have been left under the tree ages ago I can't imagine how it survived intact after all this time."

"I found it almost completely buried in the earth and covered over by this nasty creeping vine. I was determined to pry it loose, but it was completely caked in mud. And I don't know where my head was, when I went to wash it off I realized I'd started planting before I'd had Duncan turn on the water to the outside pipes! So I lugged it to the kitchen and washed it off in the sink. It's such an attractive box and it looks like there are initials carved into the medallion on the top—I could make out AMFM. You said you used to open it, was there a key?"

"No there's no key, but it does indeed open, just give me a moment here." In addition to the one on the top, there were raised medallions on all four sides and, pushing on one, Archie slid it forward until he heard a tiny click. The smaller medallion on the front rose slightly and lifting it fully exposed a tiny latch and button. Pushing and sliding the button, the latch released. They all held their breath as Archie raised the cover.

**********

"And that, my friends, is how I came upon this glorious bounty of heirloom seeds." Standing at a podium in a glass-enclosed atrium, smartly clothed in a blush colored suit, understated pearl jewelry and hair swept up in a French twist, Molly MacDonald proudly addressed the members in attendance of the Scottish National Horticultural Society. "Were it not for the curiosity of my children, this long-forgotten room may never have been found, its tiny, valuable riches and log books, completely lost. So it is with the greatest pleasure that I bestow upon the esteemed Scottish National Horticultural Society this rare and treasured collection of vegetal and floral seeds. I believe it was the intention of my husband's relative, a one Abyssinia Mertyl Foxglove MacDonald, whose efforts procuring, cataloging and preserving these fine specimens should be commended—and, incidentally, whose well-detailed, water color-illustrated gardening log of the Glenbogle Grounds is on view here to my left—to pass down these heirloom gifts from generation to generation. I'm sure she would be delighted in knowing that they will be shared with and become a permanent part of the SNHS's extensive archives." Molly paused until the echoing sound of clapping subsided.

"In addition, I look forward to launching _Project Spruce Up_, a collaboration of volunteers, horticultural students and staff from the university who, with the vision of preservation as their goal, will work closely with communities to set up cooperative gardens, overhaul neglected patches of land and bring the beauty of nature to all. And finally, I would like to express my gratitude to the society for naming after me the lone bottle of unlabeled seeds found in the collection. It will be quite an honor to plant the wild climbing Ayrshire rose, _rosa arvensis_ "Magnificent Molly" in my garden. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am humbled."

_**The End**_


End file.
